


Drinks and a prelude and the capriciousness of fate

by EllaYuki



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s01e06 A Sin to Err, F/M, Jack pov, Post-Episode: s01e05 The Iron Ceiling, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 07:18:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14130945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllaYuki/pseuds/EllaYuki
Summary: Jack doesn't think much about it when he invites Peggy to join him and the team for drinks, but as the evening goes on, he slowly realises the way he sees Peggy is changing. And then, not even 24 hours later, Sousa has to go and bring shocking news and change things again.





	Drinks and a prelude and the capriciousness of fate

**Author's Note:**

> Did I ever mention how much I suck at coming up with titles? 
> 
> Also, finally, after almost half a dozen centuries, I've managed to write something for this fandom (as dead as it might be), because I've somehow fallen back into it for the past couple of weeks or so (read: I have obsessively re-watched it about a dozen times, particular scenes and episodes especially).
> 
> This started from my latching onto Peggy's comment about how Dr. Ivchenko's only been in the States for 48hrs when she gives her real confession in episode 7, and her calling Thompson 'Jack' in that alley behind the diner (which, presumably, going by that timeline, happens the day after they went for drinks).

He invites her on a whim, mostly. Or at least, that's what he tells himself. She’s done a good job, and they should have a drink in Lee and Junior’s memory, and, well. There’s no reason not to, frankly.

He doesn't see the smile on her face when she says she'll be right there, but he hears it in her voice, the way it perks up into something he's only heard around a campfire in a frozen Lithuanian forest.

Ramirez doesn't question it this time, just welcomes her in their little group as they leave the building, with a pat on the back and a smile that says he's never underestimating her again. Jack knows the feeling.

The evening goes well enough.

The others are a bit hesitant, at first, to be their usual rowdy selves around a lady, but then Peggy knocks shot of bourbon after shot of bourbon with the rest of them and they loosen up in shocked amazement. Jack can't help the amusement he feels at the faces they make when she starts a sordid tale from her time with the Howling Commandos.

And it's weird. Because for all that she was surrounded by old friends that made her feel comfortable and welcome while on their mission, she didn't look quite as relaxed as she does now with Jack and the rest, tucked away in a booth in a bar, her hair down and yet another glass of bourbon in her hand.

 _Maybe it’s because we’re not on a mission anymore_ , Jack thinks.  _That’s probably why._

 

_~_

 

He doesn’t realise it, not at first, but she calls him Jack the whole evening, and the low lights of the joint reminds him of the way she looked at him from across the campfire. He doesn’t know what to make of it, the shift in how he sees her, in how she looks at him, but he thinks he maybe kind of likes it.

 

~

 

'Well, gentlemen,' she says suddenly, a few hours into the evening, and it makes Jack realise he's probably been staring at her. 'This has been fun, but it's time for me to go home now.'

The men around the table groan, like they usually do when one of them starts talking about heading home for the night. She looks at them, surprise clear on her face, and Jack hides the start of a grin behind his glass.

'Come on, Carter,' Ramirez says, a bit slurred. 'It's not even ten yet, you can stay a bit longer.'

Peggy laughs, bites her lower lip to try and smother it (and Jack does not, absolutely  _does not_  look at those red, red lips, doesn't think about tasting the bourbon on them). 'Would if I could, boys, but I actually have a curfew. My landlady is an utter nightmare, and I shall be out in the streets if she catches me coming in later than ten. Then what would I do?'

The men laugh at that, eyebrows wiggling. 'Well, you could move in with one of us if you want?' says one of them, and Peggy shakes her head in fond exasperation.

'And tell me, agent, what would your wives or girlfriends have to say about that?' she asks and finishes off the last of her drink.

'Jack has neither, and he has a spare room, too, he could definitely take you in,' suggests Ramirez, and Jack's head snaps in his direction, eyebrows raised. Where did  _that_  come from? Ramirez just looks vaguely smug, and Jack wants to maybe smack him.

Peggy looks at him, amusement clear on her features. 'He  _could_ , I guess, but then, we'd probably kill each other within the week. Don't you think, Jack?' She stands up at last and reaches for her jacket.

He gets there first, holds it up for her. Says, 'I'm betting on three days at most, Carter,' because he has to play along, and then turns to the others. 'I'll see the lady here to a cab and be right back.'

Peggy starts to protest ('Really, Jack, there's no need.'), but he ignores it and follows her out of the pub.

It's chilly, enough to knock some sense back into his alcohol-foggy brain, and he takes a deep breath.

'Thanks for inviting me, Jack,' Peggy says quietly, a small, happy smile on her face.

'Anytime, Marge,' he says, and realizes that he really means it.

There's a lock of hair that's been falling into her eyes the entire evening, and he can't help reaching for it. He doesn't know if he wants to tug on it or brush it behind her ear, but the way her eyes widen ever so slightly at his approaching hand has him simply flicking it to the side, a smirk on his face.

A taxi stops behind her then, a couple getting out of it giggling, and it snaps Jack back to reality. He signals it to wait.

'Good night, Peggy,' he says and turns back towards the bar doors.

'See you tomorrow, Jack,' he hears from behind. He looks over his shoulder, catches a glimpse of something in her eyes just before she turns and gets in the car.

 _Well_ , he thinks as he watches the taxi drive away, _I'm as smitten as Sousa, apparently. Wonderful_. He shakes his head, pushes the thought away, and goes back inside.

 

~*~*~

 

 

'There's no way,' is the first thing that leaves his mouth the next day, when Sousa shows him and the Chief the evidence he's gathered against Carter. Because he can't really wrap his head around it, not after Russia, not after last night.

_It doesn't make sense._

'There's evidence, Jack,' Sousa says, cuttingly, and Jack raises his eyebrows at him. 'And there are witnesses. I didn't want to believe it, either, but it is what it is.'

'And you're  _sure?'_  Dooley asks, looking from the photo of the blonde in the club to Sousa.

'I'm sure,' is the only answer that comes and Jack sits down heavily on one of the Chief’s office chairs.

 _Dammit, Marge,_  is all he can think.  _What the hell did you do?_

 

 


End file.
